Brothers
by Evildude915
Summary: In winterspring, two old friends reminisc their past and face the terrible truth that their friendship has long since crossed into resentment and hatred. Has bad language and even worse hints. PLEASE NOTE: made while i was in a bad mood. i do NOT own WoW!


Hi. This is my first story, so i'm not sure about it...sorry if it's a bit gloomy, i was in a bad mood when i wrote it. Please review to let me know about any mistakes or suggest storylines to me

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Winterspring. The coldest and one of the most inhospitable regions in all Azeroth. At night the temperatures plunge and it's almost pitch black, making all but the hardiest of warriors seek shelter in the nearby town of Everlook. Often during these nights, snowstorms pelt the ground, burying all plants, who aren't seen again that night.

During one of these snowstorms, two burly figures, orcs, stood over a fallen body, one wearing a grey veteran's armour, the other's gear black (he was only visible via the lights to the east, made by Everlook, and another north, probably a frost giant's camp.). The one in grey suddenly knelt by the fallen figure with obvious concern. Then, the other spoke.

"Do you remember how we first met, Grekar?"

"Of course," the grey armoured Grekar replied. "Even though it was so long ago, how could I forget?"

****

"I never had been liked. I was a small child, the runt of the family, an orphan who's mother had disappeared without a trace after my father had died. Not even a goodbye.

"YAAH!"

"Hit him! Hit him in his face!"

"No...Please stop..."

"Not until you learn to respect us pure-bloods, mongrel! We come directly from the Frostwolves! You're a mix between a Dragonmaw whore and a Blackrock barstard!!!"

I never did understand why you helped me. I'd never helped you, a direct relative to the Mag'Har, a tribe renowned for it's fighting prowess. Why would you save me?"

_"Simple. Because you needed saving_."

"I guess.

"Back off, runts!"

"Crap, it's that crazy Mag'hari guy! Run!!!"

Even as I grew up, I was still weaker than the rest. The tougher of my training classmates picked on me, beat me, made cruel jokes. Yet, when things got serious, when someone drew a blade, you always came.

However, unpopular as I was, it was always you who seemed more lonely."

_"What do you expect? I'm a Mag'hari. No one wants to be friends with a Mag'hari. They were all scared that they would become Fel Orcs if they touched us."_

"Seriously? You're part Fel Orc? I always wondered why you were so much bigger than the rest of us."

_"What? Does it _bother _you?"_

"No. You were always the only one who stuck up for me. You seemed lonely, and I needed extra training. So, we struck a deal. You'd teach me to fight, and I'd keep you company."

_"Yes. Things seemed so perfect then. But then everything changed; then, war came."_

"What's wrong? I thought you liked war!"

_"Of course! War is the epitome of strength! The ultimate struggle for existence! I loved every last moment of it!"_

"Yet, in your glee, you always found time for me."

_"Yes. It would have seemed that my sword training wasn't enough. It is true, that be it against the Alliance or the Ahn'Qiraj, I saved your life a hundred times over!"_

"I never denied that. But, when we returned home, you changed. Why? I didn't mean to take the credit for killing C'Thun! It was that when reinforcements came, you were out cold. The press caught sight of it, and you know how much those people make a story over everything."

_"Indeed. when we returned, suddenly _you_ were the hero; _you _had the friends! _You_ got Magtha and had your child Baruk."_

"Was that it, then? Was my accidental glorification what started you off? If you had just _asked_, and I would have shared everything with you."

_"No, I didn't mind that. In fact, I was happy for you. It was suddenly, after the birth of Baruk, when everything else started to fade out of your interest. What angered me the most was that you stopped paying attention to _me_."_

"That's a lie! I never left you! I never-"

_"Our entire _relationship_ relied on what _you_ needed! When you had used me up, you ditched me...But still I looked out for you."_

"No you didn't!"

_"Yes I did! Did you not question, why every time you came home, she was out with one of your "friends"? Where those flowers she picked came from, when Durotar has no flowers? But I stuck up for you, chased out your friends, got them sent to far out posts. And I even "educated" your wife for you._

"No...you wouldn't have...she would have told me."

_"Did you not wonder where those bruises, those cuts, came from? She had always hinted that I was behind it, but in your attentions to your son, you never got the picture."_

"NO!!!!!!"

_"Now I'm back, after these ten years. To claim what is rightfully MINE with your blood."_

****

"So now, if I kill you, Magtha will live." Grekar stated bleakly.

"Yes. And if I win, everything you have will be mine." Came the reply.

"Very well then." Grekar sighed, drawing his sword and round shield. "I had never thought that we would fight to the death, old friend."

"Don't be foolish, this was inevitable." The other countered frankly, drawing his duel blades.

Nothing more was said. The two old friends, now bitter rivals, ran at each other. Furious, frenzied strokes were made on both sides, with Grekar blocking the larger orc's swipes, then attempting to slam his shield into the Mag'hari's abdomen in an attempt to stun him long enough for the killing blow, but the Mag'hari was too good for that; he would simply jump out of the shield's way and then counter-strike with a furious volley of slashes and stabs to the abdomen while the other was off balance, only to be blocked with the blade instead. As this furious stalemate ensued, another pair of orcs arrived from the north, where the camp-fire was.

"Well?" The one in spiked golden armour asked.

"They're both very skilled, are they not?" Murmured the one who every member of the Horde would recognise as Warchief Thrall, former of the new Horde and saviour of the Orcish race.

"Ouch. That shield block was hard." The golden armoured Orc remarked, wincing. "Look; I know that we're not meant to interfere, but which side would you go for if you could choose?"

The young Warchief didn't hesitate. "Grekar."

The other raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought you'd go for the duel wielder. There's not many people who can do that to such effect. Besides, you've always believed the best attack is best."

Thrall sighed. "True. But whilst it _is_ important to have a hard attack, there are too many meatheads in the Horde who seem too dense to realise that in order to have a effective attack force, you must also have a force that can effectively resist counterattacks and support the main force and the minority that realise this stay silent and go with the crowd. Besides, the desire to protect something is far stronger than the desire to take something. Simply fighting for fun is pointless, and weak. The Mag'Har fails to understand this, and that will be his undoing. However, no matter who the winner is, I want you to make him a Kor'Kron in six months."

Thrall's friend nodded slowly. "It'll be tight, but it can be done."

Both looked back to the fight.

The Mag'Har made a wide slash around Grekar's ribs, dragging him to one knee with a furious kick. "You just don't get it!!!_" _He bellowed. "_POWER IS EVERYTHING!!!"_

"No! What's the point in being strong if you have nothing to protect?!?!" Grekar cried back, tears of frustration and betrayal pricking his crimson eyes. With that, he smashed his shield furiously into his opponent's ankle, sending the Mag'Har flying over his head into the snow. Grekar spun around and stabbed his blade straight through the other's heart.

The Mag'Har's final words were this; "You fool. With only you to train him, he will die in the war, and mark my words, war is coming..."

With that final warning he died.

Grekar, exhausted and losing blood fast, collapsed to the floor.

"Go!" commanded Thrall. "You have six Months!"

"Understood." The Kor'Kron touched his brow in an informal salute and kicked off down the hill towards his dying pupil. When he arrived, he immediately began to cast heavy healing spells, for all Kor'Kron have a little Shamanistic blood.

Eventually Grekar woke, his eyes fuzzy. "Wha-? Where am I?"

"Definitely not heaven." Came the dry reply.

"Who are you?"

"I am Urukhide, Commander of the Kor'Kron elite, and close friend of Warchief Thrall. Did you really think that the Warchief would have let you die, what with a family depending on you and after having defeated a great warrior? I have six months to make you a Kor'Kron. Don't disappoint me. Come, the Warchief has use for you still, and I'll make you worthy of him yet."

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Do you think i left it at a cliffhanger? i probably did...


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